Changeling
by knirbenrots
Summary: At least Hetty Lange managed to save Clara's boy... And boy oh boy, how that boy grew up to be her best agent ever.
1. Chapter 1

**Changeling**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Romania || 1975**

He wanted to finish the sandcastle he was building. It was one of the best he ever made. He stopped when there were footsteps of two men came nearer. If they would step any closer they might ruin his work. He looked up, his blue eyes angry and expecting at the same time. One of the men smiled and bowed towards him. He definitely must like this sandcastle too, as he handed him a toy soldier who could live it the castle.

She had watched all three of them and send him a quick, encouraging smile. There was a strange sound after that and the men left soon after. He played on, happy to finally have an inhabitant of his castle.  
Soon after that, another person carefully stepped towards them. He looked up when he heard the sharp inhale of breath. A very small woman looked sad, very sad at the woman in the beach-chair and then noticed how sweet he was playing with his tin soldier.

"You have to come with me, young mister Callen," the woman told him and reached out her hand for him.

He did not really understand what she meant and shook his head "Nu!" and he pointed at the sea. The woman bent down and looked in his cautious, ocean blue eyes. It was clear the boy had no intention to leave, neither to trust her.  
"Mama ta vrea să aibă grijă de tine [your mom wants me to take care of you]," she now said. He was surprised by the tear that ran over her cheek and the sadness in her eyes. There was more, he felt her worries about something that must be very important.  
Again, he shook his head. "Nu". He took his toy soldier and stepped back, looking for a way to escape, looking if his friends were around to help him. They were too far away though, enjoying the waves of the Black Sea.

From a distance he saw the two men that had passed earlier and who quickly came their way now. Just as he decided to run away and escape from this strange woman, she caught his stare. Once again, the boy heard how the tiny woman kept her breath. He sensed she really cared about him and she was looking for a quick way to leave the beach.  
Then, intuitively, he took her hand. He knew a way to get to the parking without being seen. They crossed the road and then he guided her, through an area of alleys and warehouses where they met nobody at all.  
The boy had played many times in there. He knew how he could avoid other people.  
Stay unseen.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || 2009**

For a brief moment, he stared through the window. The Santa Monica Ferris Wheel was empty at this time of the day. He had got used to the hustle and bustle of this part of the town. It was easy to go unseen in the crowds, even at broad daylight. Still, it was time to move on and leave this motel.  
Callen got dressed, eager to leave for his first day back at work after the shooting. He was ready for it. He put his belongings in his rucksack and took his bedroll. He looked around, knew there was nothing he would miss once he'd left and then stepped out the door. Sam would pick him up.

"You'll be surprised by the new headquarters," Sam had told him. "It's like a Spanish mission on the inside, and from the outside it is like a derelict warehouse. You'll like it. Busy."

"And Macy's gone. Michigan. Really?" Callen wanted to know. She had visited him in the hospital, but at that time she had not mentioned anything about an upcoming transfer to one of the other NCIS teams.

"She is. You know what? The little 'Ninja' now runs our operations. The two of you know each other, she said."

Callen smiled. "Seriously? Hetty Lange in Los Angeles? Wow."  
The 'Ninja'. They had briefly worked together when she was the operation manager of a case he and Gibbs had in Serbia. Back then in Washington, some of the NCIS personnel were really scared of the sharp remarks the tiny yet unbreakable looking woman made. Callen himself had felt strangely at ease with her.  
Nothing wrong with working with Hetty Lange.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Once in the system it should keep him safe from the ones who were responsible for killing Clara Callen, so they had decided. Although there had been no possibilities to keep in contact, Henrietta Lange had tried to keep track of the young boy once he had arrived with her in the United States, but it had been impossible to do so.  
In a way, it satisfied her. If she could not find him, neither could the enemies of the Callen family. At least she had saved him.

He suddenly surfaced as a young agent in the FBI when she heard his name for the first time. Then he switched to the DEA and some years later she heard CIA-agents speak about his abilities in deep undercover work.

'It's in his blood', Hetty Lange reminded herself. In a way, she was proud of how the young boy she had taken from the Romanian beach, grew up to be an agent. Just like his mother, just like his grandfather.

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_ Hope you liked this short introduction to this story!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sam had been right, Hetty had managed to arrange this building into something classy. He looked around, wondering if he was able to work in here. The buzzing of people everywhere, blocks of desks, separated by cast iron fence paneling only... So much more people around than in the former office.

Hetty Lange was surprised to see Callen walk in the bullpen that day. One month earlier than anybody had expected and stronger and more self-confident than she had ever seen him before.

"Agent Callen. Are you sure you're ready for field work, even though you have been cleared indeed?"

"Hetty!" A genuine smile appeared on his face. Even his eyes, those bright, ocean blue eyes, smiled. "Ready as can be Hetty. Good to see you in here."

It puzzled Sam. Callen had never been at ease like this, not even with Macy around. Although Sam and Kensi, and even Renko and Eric, had gotten used to the extraordinary older office manager, there was a distance she kept between her and the field workers.  
And while Callen was always the one to distrust, to not let other people find out how his deepest feelings were, he opened up to the tiny woman in a way he had never seen before. It was so not-like G. Callen.  
From this first day on that Callen was back in business, there was a special relationship between him and Hetty Lange.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"Anything new?" Sam asked his partner. Although he knew Callen was constantly looking for answers about his past, it had become worse since Alina Rostoff was found murdered.

"New. Yes. You thought it were 37 places I've stayed. Wrong. Make it 38. The Hanna residence is a good one. Thank Michelle for her wonderful cooking last night". A familiar smirk of Callen went with it. He immediately felt sorry after he'd seen the serious look in his partner's chocolate brown eyes.  
"G… don't mock me. You know damn well what I mean."

Callen shook his head. "Nothing. I mean… I've read my own personnel file. Nothing but some addresses that I don't know."

Kensi had overheard them. "So… Greg. Gabriel. George. Gallagher. Gandalf..." she snorted on the last name. "If you completely stop shaving, perhaps. Gandalf would suit you."

He tried so many times. Even googled on boy names starting with a G. None of them rang a bell. He googled Callen too, which was a rather common name. Tried his day of birth, nothing. There was nobody to ask, no relatives known. The only thing he found out, ever, was that he was nearly six years old once he enrolled the foster system. Which was… odd. How about those first five years? Who took care of him? Questions, too many questions.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

And then, suddenly, there was Keelson. Keelson who told him he knew things of his past, things Callen did not know himself. Keelson, who would have killed him if he had let him. And then Callen killed him, so he'd never found out what it was Keelson had on him. The unreachable file-box of Callen, G. was blown away, burned forever. It frustrated him enormously.  
Immediately after, he met Hannah Lawson. Hannah, who told him he had a sister. Amy. How come nobody ever told him he had a sister before? And why was she separated from him? Amy… It sounded familiar. He KNEW he knew a girl Amy once, there were… flashbacks.  
It made him sad that now he knew he once had a sister, he never had the chance to meet her or ask her things…

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

_Henrietta Lange had been completely perplexed. _  
_A sister? G. Callen had a sister? Where had the girl been on that day? Who had managed to get her to America, and when? Why separate them. The poor kids… And why had she never been informed about it? She started digging in files, once again._

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Callen still did not know how Hetty did it, but he was grateful that he could visit the grave where Amy Callen should be the one to be buried.  
He drew in a sharp breath when he read the note that went with a bunch of flowers on the grave. 'For my sweet daughter always in my heart'. Only a parent would leave a note like that. So…

Just when he let his guard down, thinking, mourning, his gut told him something was wrong. The sound of a camera made him he turn around.  
"Hey!" he shouted when he saw the other man put the camera away and started running. Callen quickly got up, wanting, needing to catch up with the other man. He didn't. Seconds after the car drove off, he managed to take pictures.  
Nothing Eric could work with. No plates, nothing.  
Callen watched the pictures over and over. A driver and a passenger, possibly female.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

He woke up with a shock.

Hetty sat in the rattan chair, next to the couch, stirring one of her special teas, relaxed. "Did you manage to catch him this time, Mr. Callen?"

He shook his head. Despite her worries, this was something he kept to himself.  
Every single time the man appeared in his nightmares, he escaped. And every single time he managed to see the face of the man in his nightmare, he saw his own face.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Snippets of what his family history had been.  
None of it came expected. The fact that Hetty knew more than she had told him was eating him up. Why had he never known anything about a feud? He had every right to know.  
Hetty had been holding out on him; told him it was to protect him.

Still, Hetty had been there all the time for him and their relationship was closest to what he experienced as a family life. He let her mother him and could not imagine she would éver disappear from his life.  
He and the team had barely been able to safe her from the Comescu family.

The family who, so he was told, had been responsible for killing his mother, the woman on the beach who he remembered, and before that, his grandfather.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || October 2013**

He had waited until the others left. No way was he really scheduled for an agent assessment. He had read it in Hetty's eyes – the worries, the questions. There was more to it. Something she wanted him to stay away from. Therefore, he sensed it was something that involved his personal situation.

They would never expect him here. So, when Granger and Sam kept talking to the LAPD officer, he simply walked towards them.  
"Agent Callen, you are not authorized." He walked past them. "Agent Callen…" Granger tried once again. He tried, though he knew Callen would not listen.

None of them spoke. The mess inside was not what stroke them. It was… the finger. The knife. The words on the wall. 'Callen we have your father'.

He had not been prepared for this...  
He could not stand to watch the scene any longer so he stormed off. Leaning on his car he swallowed away the nausea.

Just as he decided to return to his partner, the all too familiar feeling of a gun barrel in his back made him freeze.

* * *

_Thank you for reading!_

_And you're right… it is a chapter in which I tried to combine all from season one to the 100ep ánd from here on into AU, and it was not that easy. _

_Hope it will keep you going from here on as well, though._

_All credits to CBS & Shane Brennan, once again, for creating this fantastic team I gratefully use in this storyline._


	3. Chapter 3

_It was never my intention to follow the storyline that will be revealed on the 100th episode of NCIS LA. Just used bits & pieces, simply because it fits! Special thanks, once again, to Mr. Shane Brennan himself!_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

A voice behind him hissed "Don't move. Keep your hands where we can see them."

A Callen who was alert could have handled it.  
But Callen had let his guard down, shocked by what he had just seen, and swallowing away another wave of nausea. The trick he could usually pull easily - stepping back and grabbing the gun – failed terribly. Who-ever it was, managed to keep the upper hand. The back of the gun was used to pistol-whip him and Callen was knocked out.  
He was unaware that he was thrown on the back of his own car, which sped off from the crime scene.

"Damn, G!" Sam scolded. The only thing he saw was the car leaving, just when he got worried when his partner had left the house and had not returned.

"He should not have been here anyway. You knew he was not cleared," Granger said.

"What do you mean, I knew? So did you. We should have stopped him anyway," Sam muttered. "He's probably going lone wolf once again. And if he does, he does what he's best at. Become a ghost."

"In that case we'd better hurry on solving this case, agent Hanna. Let's go."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Kellerstreet**

From the blackness of 'nothing' he slowly got aware of the immense noises from outside. Wherever he was, it was close to both metro as highway. There were choppers too. He let his hand go over his head. The stickiness proved him right, this gash on his head might cause some headaches.

Callen got up, obviously too soon since the dizziness caused acute nausea. He slowly lowered himself, leaning his aching head to the soothing cool wall. Where was he, and why?

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS LA Headquarters**

"He was there?" The sharp voice of Hetty Lange hollered. She sought support by leaning on her desk, her hands clenched in fists. "Owen, how could you!"

He cleared this throat, nervously. "Henrietta… I wished I could have prevented that."

"But you didn't. You let him watch? And you let him walk away?" She shook her head in unbelief. "He IS this case, Owen."

She noticed her outburst shocked Granger. They rarely argued like this, and maybe he did not deserve it. But it literally hurt Hetty to know that Callen had been around and had seen the gruesome scene which must have been put there to lure him.

'Oh, Clara… Who was the love of your life?' She said quietly to herself.

All those years since he finally appeared back in her life, Hetty had been wondering if Callen would ever find out more than she had done herself, so far. She had used all her contacts, digged deeper in files than she ever did before when it came to personnel. She had asked Hunter to look for more during the time she was undercover in Romania...  
And oh, she had wanted to protect her best agent, her surrogate son, for the everlasting threat of the family feud. So far, all leads to the father and to why Clara had wanted to leave Romania so suddenly, ended up nowhere.  
It was why her sixth sense had told her to keep Callen away from it all. If éver there were a moment he could find out more about his past, he would grab it with both hands, perhaps forgetting all necessary rules of safety in this job.  
'Hélas'. Hetty probably underestimated his need to know, this time.

Not exactly knowing what to do next, she slowly took the stairs to the operation center.

"Mr. Beale. Get me on the phone with agent Callen."

"On it Hetty." The young tech operator immediately pressed the pre-dial button. Nothing. "Cell phone is dead," he said, surprised.

"GPS not traceable?" Nell wanted to know. She immediately started looking. The answer came soon, with a worried look she sent Hetty. "He must have dumped it right on the spot, Hetty."

"He is going off the grid. Have LAPD find the phone and bring it in, will you Miss Jones?" Then she turned to Eric again. "Any chance you can find Mr. Callen's car somewhere in this town?"

Enthusiastically Eric spoke "Kaleidoscope are my eyes, Hetty. Won't be long till we find him!"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Sam had noticed how Granger had been peeved about Hetty's remarks. But it was as if there was more to it. Something Granger might have wanted to share, but now was not so sure of.  
Granger had walked out of the office, probably needing some fresh air before he could face Hetty again.

"Hetty?" Sam asked. "Any clues so far? Anything you want me to do?"  
At the very same moment he asked, he felt like a green probie, unsure if he should be pro-active. Mostly, it was Callen who was the quick and clever planner, the one who took decisions.

She shook her head, clearly concerned about this case and how it would affect Callen. "No, Mr. Hanna. All we can do right now is wait for Kaleidoscope I think."

A soft cough was the way Nell interrupted them. "Since we all know Callen lived in Romania for some time, his father could be Romanian too. So, I ran searches on Romanian male visitors entering Los Angeles in the past few weeks. And meanwhile we had our systems check if any property has been recently sold or rented to any citizens originating from Romania or Russia."

"You did, Miss Jones? Any results so far?"

"Too many in fact. But some of them maybe worth to find out more about," Nell said. "So… Deeks and Kensi are working on some of the clues. You might want to share thoughts with us."

More self-assured than he had ever seen the young information analyst before, Sam was pleasantly surprised to see how Nell seemed to take over some of the tasks that either Hetty or Callen would take care of.  
He followed her and Hetty upstairs to the operation center where she had put the most relevant information they had so far on the large screen.

"First… the crime scene. For all we know the property was a rental. Tenant's name is Simon Farrett. We managed to trace him, he came around at the house and all he could tell LAPD was that he sublet it to a neat looking older man who wanted to have his family in there."

The nasal voice of Granger came from behind them. "Name?"

Without looking surprised, Nell turned around. "Rollins. Farrett never had any suspicions at all. Rent was paid for three months in advance."

"Mr. Deeks, Miss Blye. Your turn to go to the crime scene. Look for any clues about a family life of the subtenant."  
Hetty sighed heavily. No matter how thorough Nell's work and that of the other team members, they had not found where Callen would have gone to.  
"Mr. Hanna, a word please?" She left ops, hearing the large former seal following her.

She sat down in the deep window sill, or rather leaned against it since her tiny posture hardly reached the floor. Then, she looked in the deep brown eyes of the big senior agent. "Any secret meeting points where you might find Mr. Callen right now, Mr. Hanna?"

Sam shook his head. "I've been thinking about that too, Hetty. The unbelief in his eyes, the way he must have felt, knowing it was all about him, the way he sped off… Where would he go? When something makes him feel off, I sometimes find him on Venice beach."

She nodded, well aware of the fact that 'her boy' sometimes needed the solace of the sound of waves on the beach. She added "The cemetery is the only other place I am aware of. But I had Mr. Beale check, and his car was not spotted on any of those places. Neither at his house."

He read it in her eyes. "You think something is very wrong, don't you Hetty?"

There was another small, sad nod. "Indeed I do, Mr. Hanna."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Kellerstreet**

Maybe he dozed off for a while -he could not remember. But then there were voices. Angry ones, somebody laughing. Callen could make out at least five different voices.

He was simply put in a small stockroom of what probably belonged to a garage or something like that. Nobody had cuffed his hands, which meant that whoever kept him in here either underestimated him, or was too sure they would outnumber him anyway.

He remembered those words from Janvier, last time he'd met the villain. 'The game is not over, agent Callen.' But there was no way Janvier could have set this up. Could he? Janvier was safely locked away in Colorado, for all they knew.

He tried to concentrate on what he heard. Would he recognize any of the voices? Was it French he heard? Or Russian?—Wait. Romani?

* * *

_Thank you for reading. Please let me know what your thoughts are..._  
And remember, this storyline IS different from ep 5x04 | 100th ep.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER:** Recognizable characters are not mine, hopefully CBS & Shane Brennan let me just play on with them.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Los Angeles || Kellerstreet**

Although Callen had not heard anyone coming near, the door of the stockroom was suddenly opened. He got on his feet as fast as he could, ready for action, if necessary.

A dark haired man, probably about the same age as Callen himself, stood in the door opening. He was dressed in a nice suit, all business man in fact. Definitely the leader of this group.  
Behind him, on the right, stood another dark haired, tall yet lean, younger man. On the left a giant blond guy appeared, who wore his too long and greasy hair in a tail.  
In a matter of seconds, Callen had decided that escaping right now would be useless.

"Ei bine, uite cine e aici [well, look who's here]," the business man said.

Romani indeed. Not good.  
Without trying to show his surprise, Callen immediately knew he was one of them: a Comescu. His brain worked overtime. He remembered Ilena Vadim was still alive, because Hunter had taken her identity. But no matter how hard he tried, Callen could not figure out if, and if so, how many Comescus would have been left.

"Callen. Now, who would have thought it would be this easy to find you in such a big city," the man said with a sly grin and in a thick Slavic accent.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS LA Headquarters**

Although Sam tried to comfort Hetty, he too was worried about his partner. He could only hope Callen was going lone wolf and would soon contact him, yet he sensed there might be something more going on. Just as he decided to go back to assist Nell and Eric, Eric stepped on the platform for an awful loud squeal.

"Oh. You're here already," he said, nearly disappointed.

"Mr. Beale. Anything?"

"The car. Callen's car, I mean. I, or well, Kaleidoscope found it indeed, at one of the least expected places guys. It's parked at the LAPD heliport, Ramirez Street."

"Which is close to one of the properties we found earlier, Keller Street, rented by a guy named Ylje Vadim. He originates from Romania indeed." Nell summarized. "Vadim was Hunter's alias' surname as well, which indicates we might deal with—"

"Good heavens. A Comescu." Hetty interrupted as she slumped down on one of the spare chairs at ops.

The five of them were quiet for a while. Then Sam was the first to speak. "We'd better have a look around in there, don't you think?" He looked at Granger. "We're partnering up again?"

The older man nodded.

"Not just the two of you I hope?" Hetty said, looking at Granger as well. "Now I would think you would be wiser by now, Owen. How on earth did you survive all those black ops? Not by rushing into action without any back-up. Remember, teamwork means there should be four of you."

"Oh, please Hetty, then have Deeks and Kensi get in there too. We need to get to G… We can't let him wait, we don't even know if he is there —if he is still alive. The entire neighborhood can be crowded with LAPD if you make one single phone-call. How's that for a back-up?" Sam nearly pleaded.

Slowly, Hetty nodded. "Indeed, you are right, Mr. Hanna." She looked up, then nearly whispered "Bring him back, will you?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Kellerstreet**

Once again, the man said "Callen."  
Callen did what he was good at. Ignore remarks, questions and all that was said. An ice-cold glare from his ocean blue eyes, combined with a smirk that perhaps appeared arrogant and mostly lured the others to start talking first.  
If so, Callen would at least be able to plan.

"No questions? You don't want to know who I am. Or whose finger we used? Or who your father is?"

Although Callen wanted to know of all those things, he managed to keep his face unreadable. It wasn't that hard to do, in fact, he had been practicing for at least 35 years on doing so, and thus was perfectly able to hide his inner emotions.

"No?" He nodded to the larger of his companions. "Now, this is just to let you know we have not forgotten you."  
He tried to brace himself for what was to come next. Instead of the fist that he expected, a swift and well-practiced jump kick came his way. Never mind the fact Callen could quickly parry it, he did stumble backward to one of the larger shelving units. The second kick hit him hard in the stomach, which made him double over in pain.

"Remember? That was for killing my mother. And for Dracul there's this."

Callen winced as he knew there was more beating to come. He tried the best he could to dodge the blows, until one more kick blew his head too hard against the wall and again, he lost consciousness.

"Vasile, Nicu, avem nevoie pentru a merge. Există o mașină care vine în acest fel [we need to leave. There is a car coming this way]."

"Nicu, get him out of here. Și bătrânul foarte [the old man too]," Vasile Comescu ordered. "Ylje, you stay. Cornel and Radu will be around. As ever."

It was as easy as could be. The large, strong man lifted the limp body of Callen in the autobus that was near the back entrance. Immediately after that, a bus driver came along, guiding an older man into the bus as well. The man was obviously in pain and distress and in no condition to alarm any others.  
Before the bus driver left, Callen's hands were tied up behind his back and after that to the seats behind him. Not that he was aware of it, though…  
Eleven other men entered the bus, which then drove away.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"Deeks?" Sam called in. "Where are you right now?"

"Sitting next to Kensi, driving shotgun. Guess you don't want to hear that. Kenz?" They heard her say "If I'm speeding up, we should be at the address Nell sent us in 15 minutes, Sam. Don't do anything stupid, will you?"

"Agent Blye, I am with Sam Hanna in here. We'll just observe and will not, I repeat, we will not take any action until you arrive," Granger reacted to her remark.

"Observe, huh?" Sam said with a smirk. He decelerated the Challenger and slowly drove past the large building which hosted car sales, public parking and, in the last garage, a car paint shop. He then turned and parked in front on one of the entrances. This was the address Nell had come up with.

"Nothing suspicious, is there?" Granger asked as he watched at was going on.

Sam peaked into the car workshop from behind the wheel. A car lifted high, a mechanic with some tools, another man cleaning his hands with a cloth, then taking a lamp, looking at the brakes. "Seems like any ordinary business indeed," he agreed. "Now what, observe? Wait?"

Granger cleared his throat once again before he spoke. "What do you think, would Callen be around to watch or observe too?"

Sam shook his head. "He would have noticed the Challenger by now and join us. No, if G's around, it's not voluntary."

"We could of course observe inside as well. What do you think?"

The question of Granger surprised Sam. He nodded. "Alright by me." He stepped out of the car and walked around it. The moment he and Granger walked to the workshop, things changed rapidly. In a matter of seconds, shots came their way.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

The constant bumps of his head against the window post were irritating and his head hurt, just like his ribs and his back. Through his eyelashes Callen observed the other travelers. He counted a clan of eleven men who joined him and the older man in this autobus. The man sat two seats in front of him, on the opposite rows.  
Trying to ignore the pain, Callen tried to find any resemblances, desperately tried to dig his weary brain for any memories. There was nothing that bubbled up, nothing at all.

Could it really be that this man was his father?

* * *

_Thank you for your reviews so far! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well. Please do not hesitate to leave any comments, they're very welcome._


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you so much for leaving all your reviews, thoughts and corrections on this story. It is a short one, nearly coming to an end already [true!]._  
_I do hope you like this chapter as well!_

* * *

DISCLAIMER: Recognizable characters are not mine, hopefully CBS & Shane Brennan let me just play with them.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Kellerstreet**

"Get down!" Sam yelled, trying to reach Granger who indeed ducked down behind the car that was near the entrance.  
He quickly tried to figure out how and why things had changed so suddenly. Both men looked at each other, grabbed their guns, Sam counted down 3-2-1 and started to shoot back.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

_10 minutes later_

Deeks talked with his colleagues of the LAPD who had arrived in matter of minutes after the shooting.

Her hands put on her hips, a serious look on her face, Kensi Blye looked around. Three dead guys, Sam taking care of Granger who was grazed by two bullets. "This is your way of observing?" she asked. "What the hell happened?"

"Don't know," Sam answered. "The moment Granger and I stepped out of the car and walked in, they started shooting. I did hear them shout something like 'Ella fostacollo'. Don't know, Kenz, honestly" he repeated.

"And no trace of Callen…" Kensi sighed. "You checked, didn't you?"

"I just did, quickly. He's not in here."  
Sam took his phone. "Eric? Any chance your systems can check what 'Ella fostacollo' means?—Hetty?—Uhuh. Got that. Next question. Can you check traffic cams around this building?—yeah. Everything coming in and leaving at this address. Call me back. Oh, and Granger should be alright but I'm dropping him by soon."

The last remark got an angry glare of the assistant director.  
"What?" Sam said. "You can stay but be honest, you can't drive a car, can't shoot a gun right now… So?"

"I'll stay, special agent Hanna. Go and find out more about who were around."

"Really?" Sam shook his head. "You can't be serious. Everybody we could ask lie there" as he motioned to the bodies inside the workshop. "Kenz, wanna go for another check inside?"

"Sure. Hey, and what did Hetty tell you?" she wanted to know.

"The guy shouted 'he was there'. Which would mean that—" Kensi interrupted the senior agent: "He was 'there'… He must have recognized you from Romania, Sam! If he's one of them, a Comescu, the others might also be. Would it mean that they've still got Callen, or—?"

Sam could not remember having seen her so worried, nearly desperate, but the time Dom had been brutally kidnapped, lured to an empty parking spot, shot and dragged from his car. He gently put his large hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes.  
"Hey. We'll find him. You know Callen, he's too stubborn to stay away from us, too stubborn to leave. He'll be back, Kensi."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

He needed to slightly move his aching body and prevent his head from the continuing smashes to the windows of the bus. Callen could not avoid a wince. There was an immediate reaction from the chair next to him.

"You want to talk a bit? Maybe you want to know what I know?"

"Why? There's nothing to talk about." He swallowed, not knowing what his faith would be. Right now, the only question he had was the one he did not want to ask. Why was he still alive?

The green eyes of the man kept looking straight at him. "I can see you want to know why. Of course, that is part of your job, isn't it? You are a special agent. You are known for your extreme quick thinking, and now… you feel lost, don't you? You are paid to solve cases, but can you do this one? Everybody said it would be impossible to find you, but here you are. 'A ghost - A legend', that's what they call you. A man who hardly knows about his past. And you know what? I have answers."

Callen had heard things like that before. Keelson had answers. Alexa Comescu had answers. Marcel Janvier had answers. Hetty kept answers in that sealed envelope, locked away in her safe. And now this man had answers. Heck, how come that so many people obviously knew more about him, his past, his name, his identity, more than Callen himself knew?

He needed to know. "He—is he my father?" he asked in a soft voice.

The question caused a quick twitch of the lips of the man next to him. "I have answers, as I told you."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Kellerstreet**

Putting on their gloves, they went through the workshop once again. Granger and Sam found blooded cloths in one of the trash bins. "This was serious bleeding. Do you think that-?" Sam did not finish his sentence. It was hard to believe somebody would hurt Callen like that at this place, in only such a short period.

"Guys?" they heard Deeks call and walked his way. He and Kensi had opened doors to closets and stockrooms. In one of the restrooms there were more cloths filled with blood.

"This is older. It cannot be Callen's," Granger calmly answered. Just as they were going through the rest of the building, Eric called in. Sam answered the call and put the phone on speaker.

"Eric? Anything?"

-_"Nothing on cars leaving. But soon after the time we estimate Callen's car might have arrived at the parking, a taxi arrived, entered the workshop and left about five minutes later. We cannot see what happened inside,_" Eric informed them.

"How about other cars leaving?" Sam wanted to know.

-_"None. But guys, you haven't seen the back entrance? Guess not. Hopeless_."

Deeks and Kensi walked on through the building, opening the back doors. Public busses, the blue busses, were parked all around at the large paved area. "Bus station!" Deeks shouted.

-_"Busses indeed. All of them take the same route through the city. Driving in circles. Leaving on a tight schedule of five minutes in between them. We have watched them all leave, no anomalies. Guys, we're looking for a needle in a haystack_."

"That's our job, Beale. So, keep digging," Granger answered.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Griffith Park**

The bus was far too large for the small road. Callen remembered the park, the woodland area with its small paths and turns to remote buildings.  
He heard somebody say 'cluj fundatura' and others started laughing. Callen did not know the exact meaning, but it had to do something with a road to nowhere. Not good. He clenched his jaw.

"You want answers, now pay attention. You will soon have some."

The older man looked around, his face in despair and started to plead in French. "Vasile, ne les faites du mal, s'il vous plaît [please don't hurt them]."

"Taci! [shut up]" the man shouted.

Them? It was like everybody was speaking another language. What were the plans? How could he defeat eleven people, handcuffed and without any weapons? His mind worked at high speed but for once, Callen could not find any plan B so far.

Suddenly, the bus came to a halt. "Nicu, Dimutri, Costel, take this one. Silvio, Petru. The old man." Vasile ordered. "Petre, get the bus to the Observatory, get passengers in and drive the normal route back to the garage. Nicolaj, pick us up with the van in an hour from now."

The blond giant came towards Callen once again, accompanied by two other guys. With his hands still cuffed behind his back, they dragged him out of the bus.  
There was no way he could talk to the older man, who was forced to walk far in front of him, guided by two men.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Since there was nothing else to do at this crime scene and LAPD had showed up to take over, the two cars were on their way back to the NCIS office when Eric called in.

-_"Guys, we did find something strange. One of the busses showed up at the Griffith Park Center, took a turn to the Park Drive and then turned around, driving its way back to the Observatory_."

"Have you ever been there Eric? I have. Lost my way in there too," they heard Deeks answer.

-"_Not when you're a bus driver Deeks. All stops are programmed,_" Nell reacted to this from the operation center. She was the one who every now and then travelled by public transportation.

-_"Since this is the only clue we have so far, I suggest you all hurry to the exact location that Mr. Beale sent to your phones already._" Hetty's voice reached them all as well. Less optimistic than they'd ever heard before…

* * *

Please let me hear your remarks on this one too!

Thanks :-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

**Los Angeles || Griffith Park**

All of a sudden, the giant they called Nicu grabbed Callen's shoulder and, together with two of the others, kept him at a distance from the older man and the ones accompanying him.

The others walked to the last of the five premises which was secluded from the road side. From where Callen and the others stood, he caught sight of them entering a code to open the gate.  
Then, from even further away, he heard a female say in a French accent: "Papa, what happened?"

For once, Callen experienced how he could not hide his thoughts. 'Callen, we have your father', and now he heard somebody else say 'Papa'. His feelings were completely in a whirl. Who was this woman?

The questions in his ocean blue eyes were obvious for the Comescu that was near to him. The green eyes of the man that was called Vasile were meeting his stare now.  
"Surprise, surprise. Am I right? Yes, I am right, I can read it in your eyes. Oh, it will be so good." The man definitely was satisfied about his plans. "Minutes from now, seconds maybe, before it will all be clear to you."  
Then he turned to one of his companions. "Costel, you can untie him already."

"Eugene! Aide-moi with Papa!" he now heard the woman yell.

It hit Callen like a ton of bricks: 'You-G'. The name he never pronounced well enough and the fun it had caused with the grown-ups. The French accent… Amélie and Eugene. Amy, and G.

He blinked his eyes, this time in complete unbelief. So many things that came back, he could not shake off the feeling of being completely stupefied. It simply was too much to handle.

"So…" Vasile Comescu kept a smirk on his face, definitely liking what he did. "It did take a while to plan, you know. I needed them, I needed him," as he nodded to Amy, to Eugene, and their father, "and I needed you. And now it's all going according to my plan. You know what this blood feud meant to my family, don't you?"  
Angrily, he continued. "Yes, I know you do. You are the one who took revenge for the Callen family. Bastardule!"

There was so much he wanted to say, but not to this guy. If they were the Callens, Amélie and Eugene? If they really were, his whole life had be a lie. Who lied and why?

"They made us believe you were G. Callen. No innocent civilian, no, you brought your own little army and started killing MY Familia!" Comescu shouted. Then he hissed "Now, you will work for us. Finally finish it all."

Like a silly school boy, he reacted. "But I—What do you mean, work for you?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Sam's phone chimed once again when they were on their way. He put it on speaker. "Yeah?"

-_"Sam, it's Eric here. We had traffic cams follow that bus and it came back and went straight to the right route to the Griffith Observatory. Don't know if_—"

Sam simply interrupted Eric. Yes, we will check anyway. Do you think we will meet that bus? We're nearly there."

It was quiet for a second.  
-_"Checked. Yes, only some turns from now._"

"Get LAPD get in here ASAP too, Eric. They can assist. We need to find that needle in that haystack. We need to find Callen, and possibly find his father too." Then he continued "Deeks, Kensi, you with us?"

"Right behind you, pal. Can see your back, so we have it. Let's go for it." As ever, Deeks was quick with his words. By now, Sam knew too well how the younger detective was able to be talkative even when under pressure. Deeks would have his back, sure thing.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Griffith Park, Camp Road**

Something in his usual sharp mind blocked completely.

The Comescu cocked his head and smirked once more. "Now who was the clever guy? You, dear agent 'Callen', are going to kill those three. And before you know it, we will be gone."

"If I don't cooperate, you are going to shoot them anyway. Am I right?" he asked.

"Yes, you are right. But you won't have any answers then. Oh, and you might understand the difference between being arrested and being killed in action, I presume?" Vasile told him. "You're going down with them in that case."

He wanted answers, he longed for knowing more.  
But not on those conditions. There was nothing to win, except maybe… time. Without his phone he could not warn his team or any other people. So, time might be useless.  
If only he had a gun right now. Of course, if he was about to kill Amélie and Eugene, he needed a gun. A gun that Comescu would hand over to him. He tried to figure out how many of those six man he could handle, without anyone else getting shot. All of them? Half of them? Who else would be alerted if they heard shots? Would the Callen family have any guns? Would they know who he was?  
He knew that if it wasn't for what he and his team did in Romania, this family would not be endangered at this very moment. He owed them to try and keep them safe.

He slowly nodded and agreed "Alright. I will do what you want me to do. And in return I can talk to them, and they and you tell me more?"  
No way did he trust Comescu. But he needed to try, at least try, to gain time to come up with a plan.

Vasile Comescu smiled and gave a nearly unnoticed order. Nicu came closer and rudely guided him to the house, forcing him with a back suplex to walk with him until they reached the secluded back garden where two of Comescu's men already stood, their guns aimed at the Callen family.

He didn't know if he had the guts to look at them. Look at 'Gee' and 'Amy'. Until he finally heard a soft voice say 'Cal?'  
He blinked his eyes and inhaled deeply. 'Cal and G, G and Cal.' It all came back. He bit his under lip and looked up in the grey blue eyes of his first friend ever.

"Eugene, G. I… uhm." What was there to say? The cruelty of it all. He sighed heavily. "So. This is your father?"

The older man clearly suffered from the torture he went through; he noticed the feverish far-away stare and the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Clearly, he needed medical aid.

Amy nodded. "Cal, who are they? What did they do to papa? What do they want, how come you are here?" Amy now asked, scared. "Do you know what is happening?"  
He swallowed. Could he tell them? Did they know anything?

"Go on, tell them. Tell them you are here to kill them, 'Cal'!" Vasile told him. "You see, she has questions too."

He looked away, not able to face the others. Seconds before Amy started to cry out, he swore he heard the roars of Sam's Challenger.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Minutes earlier**

They stopped the bus, all four with their guns at the ready. Four passengers, and a driver, all male. Granger ordered them to come out. "Federal agents! You put your hands where we can see them, face towards the bus".

"None of you on your way to the office?" Deeks asked, "Or are all of you getting paid by simply being here?" His words were light, his face serious this time. He took some zip-ties and so did Kensi. "Let the boys wait in here until their boss, or ours, picks them up. Sam, go, we'll be right behind you.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Griffith Park, Camp Road**

This was the time, before wrong things happened when some of them would start panicking. He held up his hand and as expected, one of the men handed him a gun. He briefly took a look. Sig Sauer. He breathed in deep and aimed for the first shot. One that would not be lethal, one that would hurt severely. He felt sorry already.

The bullet hit the old man's hand, the hand that was already brutally mutilated. Right behind him, he heard Vasile's surprised laugh, immediately followed by the screams of the man. His children kneeled beside their father, and he aimed at Eugene. Again, he held his breath. He could do it, he knew. In a swift move, he shot the first man that guarded Amy and Eugene, and turned around to shoot Nicu. Two shots did that trick. The other guard of the Callens, completely in shock, did not even move when he was shot. Dead.  
One bullet, headshot, for Costel.

"Cal!" The scream of Amy distracted him. Too late. The first bullet pierced his upper arm and made him drop his weapon. The second bullet entered the right part of his chest. He felt it burning its way through his upper body. He felt his body refusing to stay up, as in slow motion he fell on his knees. Still, he noticed the gun in the hand, ready for another shot.

'Failed'…

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Even before the car came to a halt, Sam heard the shots, the screams. His partner was there, gut feeling. He motioned to the others: Kensi and Deeks would come from back way, he would go straight in, covered by Granger.

So many bodies. One man, aiming his gun to— 'No!' Could he make a clear shot? He had to! And he had.  
The shooter was shot and only three people seemed to be not injured.

"Owen, get us some ambulances in here," Sam ordered, before he yelled "G!" and hurried to the one person he had not wanted to find in there, not like this.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

It wasn't just the physical pain – hell, the bullets in his body hurt. But the pain was… different.

All his life, all he ever thought he was, was gone. G. Callen never was who he thought he was. But could he ever get G. Callen gone from his system? He simply did not want to think. He wanted to escape reality.  
Oh, yes, he heard Sam. He felt the strong hands of his partner pushing something on the largest of the wounds, trying to stop it from bleeding. Whose wounds? Too tired to think. He simply wanted to… not be here.

"Sam?"

Just a whisper. 'Far too weak', Sam thought as he tried to ignore how Callen was struggling, trying to talk to him. "Hey partner, I'm here."

"Keep—have the Callens safe," he gasped.  
Enough now. He knew Sam would have his back. Sam would have G. Callen's, Eugene', back. Time to stop thinking. Gratefully, he closed his eyes. His team would handle all.

"G! Don't do this, buddy. You'd better stay and explain. G?" Softer now, he continued. "Damn it G. I am not interested in any other Callens. I need you."

Kensi looked so scared when she came nearer. "Sam?"

"Ask Eric how long it takes to have a medicopter in here," Sam calmly instructed her. "They should hurry, he needs it."

* * *

_Hope you keep reading & keep your comments coming!_

* * *

**Disclaimer**: It is great to be able to share all the characters that Shane Brennan brought to us in NCIS LA. Sharing & using, but never belonging to me. Thank you, Brennan & CBS


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

changeling (ˈtʃeindʒliŋ) noun ~ _a child secretly left in place of another by the fairies_

* * *

She sat straight up in the chair next to his bed, sighing sadly as she saw him lying still, looking small and pale in the hospital bed. Hetty Lange had been in the hospital even before the medicopter landed on the rooftop of the Cedars-Sinai.

It had taken the team of doctors over three hours to finally get him to where he was now. Still alive, but with tubes everywhere and attached to a large machine that took care of his breathing.  
The bullet wound caused a punctured lung, three broken ribs and internal bleeding. And, added to the severe damage, muscles in his upper arm and soft tissue would need time to heal too. Critically wounded, but less severe than the time when G. Callen barely survived the shooting in Venice.  
He had proven to be a fighter and she was sure his body and mind were now fighting to stay alive and recover as soon as possible too.

What worried Hetty mostly, however, was the extreme news that Owen Granger came up with. The family of three that were found at the estate were Amélie Callen, Eugene Callen and their father, Nikita Reznikov.  
Again, she sighed. "Oh, dear boy," she softly spoke. "It sounds as if you found yourself the Callen family."  
She then shook her head.  
_Impossible_.

A soft knock on the door alerted her some minutes later. Sam Hanna entered the room, bloodstains still on his shirt, probably his partners, she silently figured out.

The large special agent moved remarkably careful toward the bed and watched the ever so sturdy lead agent, now without movement. "It reminds me of the fifth of May," he said, more or less to himself. "Though now I got to the one who shot him in time. Still… I'm not sure what happened."  
Hetty could read the uncertainties in his eyes as Sam continued "They said—he shot the father Hetty. Why?"

"He did, Mr. Hanna? It saddens me to hear that. Do we have any news on how bad?" she asked.

He slowly nodded. "The bullet went straight through the man's left hand. He probably loses it."

"Now than… Have we checked on how bad the man was injured befóre your partner shot him?" she answered, as a slight smile appeared on her face. "It must have been a clear shot which might have saved all their lifes. Did you get a chance to talk to the other Callens?" she wanted to know.

"No, I haven't. Deeks and Kensi are taking them to the boatshed as we speak."

"Good." And she repeated. "Good. Well, in that case, do you want to stay in here? I'd rather be at the boatshed too, you see." Actually, without waiting for the answer, she stood up and walked past him and left him to stay with the motionless lead agent in the hospital bed.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Marina del Rey || the Boatshed**

The team was unaccustomed to see the small operation manager moving around in the Boatshed. This time, she had asked Deeks and Kensi to leave her with the man and the woman in the interrogation room.

'Impossible'… Hetty Lange had thought. But how wrong could she be?

"Dear girl," she spoke, her eyes in unbelief. "You—you really look just like your mother."

The red, still teary eyes of Amélie looked at her. Indeed, a spitting image of the CIA agent Hetty was to pick up from a Romanian beach, nearly 40 years ago. The black hair, the blue greyish eyes…  
It was her younger brother, who reacted to her words and asked "You knew our mother?"

On screen, Marty Deeks and Kensi Blye heard Hetty say "Yes, young man, indeed I did. Her name was Clara, Clara Callen. And until only two hours ago, I was sure those words that I spoke before, were meant for a federal agent that works for my office." She sighed deeply. This was strangely difficult to her.  
"First, I should introduce myself. My name is Henrietta Lange, and I used to work for the CIA. So did your mother."

"Papa mentioned once that she was a spy indeed," the man reacted to that.

Hetty had quickly observed the man. Probably early forties, somebody that spent his life mostly sitting behind a desk, a paunch, a puffy face but clear and wise eyes.  
"Eugene. That is your real name?" she asked. The man nodded. "Eugene Callen. But our father insisted we introduced ourselves as Rollins, now we are in America. Papa lived here for some time already."

"Yet… Rollins is not his real surname either, is it?" she asked.

"His name is Nikita Alexandr Reznikov. All three of us used to live in Canada, in Saguenay, Quebec. For papa, the humidity in there is not good for his health. So he came up with this. We both came over this week, papa found us this home for vacation," Eugene told Hetty.

His sister added "You forget to tell he found a new place to live, in town, G"

Hetty Lange could not hide her gasp of unbelief. Neither could the special agents in the room next door. "Amélie… How did you just call your brother?" She needed to hear it again.

"G. Short for Eugene." A short, sweet smile appeared on her face. "Cal always called him G. He had difficulties with the pronunciation of the full name. Every now and then I still use it."

G. Callen… He was sitting right in front of her. For a split second, Hetty did not know what to say or ask. But she had to know. "Cal?"

"Callan," Eugene clarified. Then, suddenly worried, he asked "How is he doing, do you know?"

She softly answered "Callan. He was there with you?"

"Definitely," Amy answered. "That man who shot him knew who he was. And we both recognized him. I have never seen anyone else with such blue eyes."

"Not good. I ehm, I shall ask. Wait here, please."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

She looked about ten years older, Kensi thought when Hetty Lange joined them in the central room of the boatshed.  
True, Kensi Blye was completely astonished herself about what she'd heard. Their team leader, now badly hurt in hospital, was not who he - who they all - expected to be. G. Callen was in fact Eugene Callen, and sitting with his sister Amy, who was supposed to have died, with them in this boatshed.

"Hetty… they are simply speaking the truth. And Callen? He knew?"

"Yes, dear. The Comescu told him, only minutes before he was shot."  
Hetty simply thought of the impact this must have had on Callen's emotions. But there was more. Back in 1975, her orders had been to get Clara and 'the boy' out of Romania. Nobody ever spoke of Clara and her children. Even Alexa Comescu mentioned 'Clara and the boy'.  
It was when Hannah Lawson had showed up when she first heard of Amy Callen. Hetty then thought she might have misunderstood, forgot, not remembered how the orders had been. And now, she was wondering again. Had she been wrong? She sighed deeply, again.  
It was time she found out more.

"Mr. Deeks, Miss Blye, please check if Vasile Comescu was killed in action. Inform me as soon as you find out. And please call Mr. Hanna. We need to know how—" she stopped speaking, looking nearly in despair at the young members of her team.

"Callan. We don't have to change his name. To me, he'll be Callen, even if the e is an a. Heck, that alphabet-soup thing made me wonder if we always need to remember all the abbreviations. I've never been good at putting the right letters at the right place." Deeks tried to be as lightly as possible, since he noticed how the office manager who always was the strong one, now seemed to be so unsure. "We'll let you know, Hetty, how he's doing."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

There were so many things she wanted to know, things she had to know so Callen (there, she needed to correct herself), so Callan would know.  
Before she re-entered the interrogation room, of which she left the doors unlocked, she made herself a soothing Kava Tulsi-Stash tea and decided to take two more cups with her. Clara's children might need some too.

She quietly poured them some tea and handed each of them a cup. "So, where were we?" she then asked.

"Callan", Eugene said, "he was my friend."  
Hetty nodded, quietly encouraging him to go on. Instead, his sister continued. "G and Cal, Cal and G. They were so sweet together. Cal blond haired, blue eyes, and Eugene dark hair, grey eyes. It was fun seeing them play together. I remember mom picked him up every other day."

She sipped some of her tea, then Hetty said "So, she picked him up. Now, do you remember who his parents were?"  
The brother and sister looked at each other. "Well… no I don't. Now I think about it, I never saw any grownups around him," Amy answered.

"A surname? Any specific memories?" Hetty wanted to know. It was quiet for a while and she noticed, and knew, it was about time she stopped asking questions.

"I—we really don't know. Although… Cal had some difficulties with the language. Mom spoke English or Romani. He understood, I know, because he understood what we said too. But there was something in the articulation of words, vowels, the syllabi … Yes, I know it sounds odd after all those years, but you see, I'm a teacher and help children in their first years with things like that. Anyway, that is about it. Maybe papa remembers?" She hopefully concluded.

"Perhaps he does indeed," Hetty affirmed. "And since visiting hour starts soon, I suggest you see him. He is at the Cedars-Sinai as well, I believe?"

The Callen children were about to stand up and leave when one more question popped up. "When you lived in Canada, which surname did you use?"

It was Eugene who replied: "Callen. Reznikov would be too dangerous, papa told us. He was KGB, Miss Lange. All he wanted was to get out of Eastern Europe, quit his job and live with mom and us in America. But something went wrong and a friend of his finally managed to get us away from Romania and suggested he should use the name Rollins. Callen was a safe name, he told us."  
They got up and Hetty asked Kensi and Deeks to drive them to the hospital.

Henrietta Lange stayed for just a short period longer. She sat down and closed her eyes, trying to have her tired brain make sense to it all.  
'Callen was a safe name', Eugene told her. Hér superiors had told her to get him in the system, children services, foster care, whatever, since it would keep him unseen and thus safe.  
Oh, the poor little boy. What had she done?

* * *

A/N Don't remember who told me that there wasn't enough Callen in a chapter. Realized after re-reading this one, you might miss him again. True. But some things need to be worked out before I can continue…

Thanks for leaving your reviews on the previous chapters! I really do appreciate that.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N thank you **Sue**, for pointing out that I did make a mistake in the previous chapter. I've changed that line. Of course, the boy on the beach was blond and blue eyed._

**Disclaimer:** thank you Shane Brennan, for the great storyline called NCIS-LA. Its characters are so great to use in fan-fiction, so I gratefully do that!

* * *

**changeling** (ˈtʃeindʒliŋ) noun ~ _a child secretly left in place of another by the fairies_

**Chapter 8**

Henrietta Lange needed some time to clear her head. Her mind went back to what happened nearly 40 years ago.

Clara Callen had contacted the agency after she'd been off the grid for six years, desperate to leave Romania as soon as possible. The only thing she had informed her superiors about was the exact location for the pick-up and that there would be a boy with her. Hetty Lange, her handler, was about to meet Clara, until at the very last minute, her orders had changed. Despite those changes, Hetty decided to go anyway, but she arrived too late. Clara Callen was shot and killed probably only minutes before Hetty had showed up. There was, however, still the boy next to her, quietly playing and unaware of what had just happened.

Could she remember how the boy had reacted? Indeed, distrusting, cautious. She had spoken English, he had reacted in only short answers in Romani, but he had understood what she meant. Who was this boy? Definitely not G. Callen. But he had reacted to Callen, hadn't he? Or… Callan. It sounded the same. Once in America her superiors had insisted the boy was not to remain near her, a CIA-agent herself. No, the boy was to be left by her in an orphanage in Maryland.

He was reluctant, stubborn, quiet. And of course, scared and lonely. It had hurt Hetty more than she had thought. The young boy had clearly no intentions to trust the social worker who asked too many questions during the intake. But… Hetty now did remember he could read. Had he corrected the woman when she wrote Callen? He had repeated 'G' several times, so he went into the systems as G. Callen. An angry, clever yet quiet little boy that was moved to another country without any preparation, without any family, without anyone to comfort him.

After all those years, some things had faded, but now, when she had just met Eugene Callen, who was called 'G' by his very young friend, those memories suddenly got a new meaning. Why, back then, had Clara Callen wanted this little boy to accompany her? Where had her own children been at that time? Why had nobody told her that Clara had two children and a husband? True, he was a Russian husband, a KGB-officer. Her superiors must have known. Would that have been the real reason why her orders had changed so soon at the last moment?

Never before had Hetty Lange felt so confused. She needed answers, soon. Reznikov might be the only one who could give her the answers she, and her lead agent, needed.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai**

"We were going to travel separately from each other. We agreed upon that before. She knew she was in danger, Madame Lange," Reznikov told her, clearly emotional after the torture he went through, from nearly being killed and undergoing surgery. And now Hetty just wanted to know things from the past. "Clara wanted me to take the children with her. She would travel alone, together with the boy. Deal was the two of them would be picked up and I would take Eugene and Amélie later that day."

"But how were you going to do that? Back in the seventies you would never have been able to enter the United States as a Russian citizen."

Wrinkles appeared on Reznikov's face as he recalled all to his mind. "We had thought it all out. When Eugene was born, we already started planning. A friend arranged a Canadian passport for me and knew how to build up a new life in Canada. So, I started learning French. Amélie was young, I taught her French too. Clara would move to Canada, once she was back in the States. But… then it all went wrong. There were men talking to the little boy, and later, he was gone. And Clara was dead. I never knew what happened to the little lonely boy."

"Callan," Hetty reacted, understanding that her lead agent was called Callan and he had been the lonely boy, all his life. "But why?" she asked. "Why did she want to take this boy, what did she tell you about him?"

The man scanned the serious face of the older lady sitting next to his bed, trying to analyze her interest in the boy's background. "He is someone who works for you, am I correct? He's an agent, I figured out even before Vasile Comescu told me." A glimpse of a smile appeared on his face. "Really, I had expected one of our kids to find a job in law enforcement. After all, it's in their blood. And he…" He was quiet for a while, then continued "Clara was sure the boy would be in danger if he stayed. She made a promise to take care of him. Hélas, I don't know to whom, she never answered me."

Hetty sighed deeply, well aware it was a day she seemed to sigh more than ever before in her life. She carefully verbalized her worries, feeling she could trust this man. "I was the one who took the boy away from the beach. When we arrived in America, this lonely little boy was scared but even more, distrusting all grownups. He had a terrible youth and lived in 37 foster homes. Later, when he had become an agent indeed, I tried to provide him with as much information as I could. He has been looking for his family - his past, his identity - all his life. Only hours before you met him, he was sure _HIS_ name was G. Callen and he treasured the picture of Clara that I handed him."

She paused for a moment. "Some years ago, the Comescu family was on his trail. A blood feud. The same family that killed your Clara. We… his team, went to Romania and thought the business was finished. Fact is, the Comescus held him for the last Callen. Fact is, there was one more Comescu left and he lured him, letting him believe you were his father."

"Vasile hated him, I could hear that, there was this angry shouting. I am sure they kicked and hit him. He was knock-out at first, and later… I don't know. Desperate, but at the meantime, how do you say – consciencieusement, determined. Yes, he shot me. Yes, it was the best distraction I ever saw. I feel sorry. Sorry he could not be saved."

"Oh, but he is still alive, Mr. Reznikov. Only some wards away from here. Severely wounded, not critically. He's strong-willed, a fighter. Somebody who managed to survive so many nasty things during his early years, who is able to lead his team to hell and back, who will protect the innocents without them knowing it. And he is strong indeed and he will be around, soon. And before he does, I would want him to know who he really is." She ended softer than he heard her talking before.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS LA Office of Special Projects, late next day**

-"_That is good to hear indeed.—Tomorrow then_," Nell concluded before she ended the phone call.  
A broad smile appeared on her face. "Callen… No, Callan, will be alright. Dr. Lee will reduce the medication, maybe he'll wake up by tomorrow. The the tube will be removed as well, sooner than Hetty expected, if necessary it will be replaced by an oxygen mask. Good news indeed!" Then, she repeated what Hetty just explained her.

"Really? Hetty wants us to do a cold case?" Deeks certainly did not look happy on the information Nell just shared.

"Uhu," Nell replied, "a Cold Case it is. In fact, we don't have a victim and we don't have a crime. Yet."

Even Eric looked quizzically at this remark Nell made. "How—what does Hetty want from us?"

"Files, contacts, trips, payments… Anything. Key persons: Clara Callen, Callan, Nikita Reznikov, Romania, Russia. Anything. CIA files, KGB files, things like that, all from 1969 to 1975. Although… pay attention, Hetty herself already pulled all kind of strings four years ago. So, let's see if we can beat her work guys!" Nell said.

The desperate looks on her co-workers faces made her wonder _IF_ ever it would be possible to find out anything new.

"This will be paperwork and it is going to kill me, guys," Deeks exclaimed. "Well, not literally of course. But all in all, it is absurd! I never was the guy to study all day long."

"Then you should not do that now. What if you and I get some assistance?" Kensi smiled. "We'll visit Arkady Kolcheck, Deeks."

"Will we? Yes, we will. Oh, we will be back in about an hour, Nell. Anything we can bring the two of you for dinner?"

The techs from the operation center looked at each other, smiled and said, simultaneously "pizza diablo".

"Scary. Really, scary, those two," Deeks mumbled as he followed Kensi.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai**

"Any new updates on his condition, Hetty?" Sam wanted to know. He just came back from home, freshly showered and determined to stay with his partner for the rest of the night.

"He will be fine Mr. Hanna. Dr. Lee thinks he will be back in the land of the living by tomorrow," the older operations manager told him. The look on her face however was troubled.

"I see. You're worried about that, and so am I," Sam said. "He will blame you for not telling the truth about his past. And there's nothing new about that part, is there?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Hanna. The rest of your team is working on that at the moment, but it's time they get some rest too. By the way, Vasile Comescu died earlier this afternoon. The only surviving victim of the shooting that was left who might know more about Mr. Callen…" Again, she paused for a while, shook her head and corrected herself. "Mr Callan's past". She took her coat and purse. "If there is anything going on in here, please do contact me. I will be in here tomorrow morning."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

She stepped in her Jaguar and drove home.  
When she turned toward the driveway and stopped to open the gate, she noticed the two men who were waiting for her.

* * *

_Not the longest chapter indeed, and no real action, for which I do appologize. There will be only some chapters to follow this one. Please leave your thoughts, ideas & reviews, they are very welcome indeed!_


	9. Chapter 9

Woow, over 100 comments and reviews already on this storyline, thank you all!

**DISCLAIMER**: Recognizable characters are not mine, hopefully CBS & Shane Brennan let me just play with them #foraslongasIliketowrite

* * *

_changeling (ˈtʃeindʒliŋ) noun ~ a child secretly left in place of another by the fairies _

* * *

**Chapter 9**

She sighed deeply. These two men were in fact the last ones she expected to visit her at home, at this time of the night and certainly not ever together. 'Not good', Hetty thought.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Hetty's place**

"Owen?" She studied the always so stoic face of the assistant Director. "What is it that the two of you brings being around?"

"Callan," was all he had to say.

The still strong built former KGB officer stood overlooking the gardens that belonged to the estate Hetty owned as he spoke "Reznikov."

"Yes, go on please", Hetty responded.

Arkady Kolcheck turned to her and nodded. "Reznikov. Rollins. He entered Canada as a French speaking father of two. He—We used to work together, Reznikov and I. We were partners for a while. I was the one who handed him the fake passports for him and the children."

Hetty looked at the man in unbelief and then asked, angrily "So, you KNEW? And Callen, Callan, he trusted you, he considers you to be befriended?"

"Wait," he said as he raised his hand. "Yes, I have always considered G. Callen as my friend. And I always thought of him as Clara's boy, just like you did. No matter who he is, he is a brilliant agent, a reliable person and good friend indeed. It was not until your young team visited me late this afternoon that I discovered the truth."

Owen Granger continued "And so, Arkady contacted me."

She slowly shook her head. "Why? What is it that I miss, Owen? The two of you seem to have a history you never cared to share?"

Granger nervously cleared his throat. "We have met before, indeed. Years ago, it must have been back in 1978 I think, Reznikov contacted Arkady once again. He knew Kolcheck lived in Los Angeles and he came over to discuss… a delicate matter with me. At this moment, it is not important to know what that was. Callen, Eugene, stayed at home with an au-pair. But Amélie, she accompanied her father. We—well, the three of us had to be in Russia for a few months and since there was no time to travel back to Canada with Amélie, her father arranged a temporary place to stay."

"The orphanage… It was the real Amy in there. But—and," Hetty stammered, breathless. She could not remember a case in which worlds were turned upside down like it felt hers continuously did, these days. And if she was upset and confused about all she heard, how would her lead agent feel? The boy, the man, who built walls around his heart, kept things close to the chest and was better at hiding his feelings and his emotions than anyone she ever met… she shook her head, knowing this was far from over.

"We needed to get her out of there, soon. During our mission we ran into an agent of the Securitate. She also was a former KGB agent and she followed us back to Los Angeles. We had to let her believe Amy Callen died. So, we convinced the girl she should sneak out of the sleep ward with her friend that night. She never drowned, but we needed Hannah Lawson to believe she did, just as we needed to convince that agent," Granger explained. "Arkady had, let us say, ways to make the funeral seem real."

Hetty sat, listened, her lips pursed, her hands folded and resting on her knees, and she knew… "Alexa Comescu. She's been behind it all. Having Clara killed. Believing Amy was dead. Always chasing… the boy, the man we all thought was G. Callen. You really did not know?"

Both men shook their heads. "Eugene was so young at that time. Nikita never contacted us after. Perhaps he freaked out after this. G. Callen popped up in your team when he was a grown-up, Henrietta." Owen replied, "and it's been only two years ago we first met. I never had the guts to tell him I knew what the G stood for. It's only now I realize I would have been wrong as well. "

She remembered the first time both men met. Indeed, Owen had mumbled he knew Callen better than anyone would think. 'Oh, all the questions that never seemed to be answered…'

"And so, gentlemen, we all know by now that our special agent is nót G. Callen. The only thing we know is his first name is Callan. I suggest you do everything that is within your power as well to help me and his team to find out who the boy really is. We owe him this."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai**

The intense pain in his chest proved he was still alive. Somebody should do something to stop that pain. He did not want it, and he refused to be around and think.

Alarmed by the soft moans and wincing, Sam woke from a restless nap in the uncomfortable chair that was posted next to the hospital bed. "G? Are you with me?" There was a slight nod and a glance from blue eyes that usually were clear but that were darker than Sam could remember. Pain did that. And despite the fact that his partner had been out for over two days, he definitely did looked exhausted.

"You're in pain, let me ask for some assistance. Maybe there's something they can do to keep it all bearable." Sam did expect his partner to protest, but again, there was a slight nod. "Dr. Lee is around. He knows your file. You remember the wonderful drugs he used on you so you'd be pain free and able to rest too," he continued.

The only reaction of his younger, stubborn but at the moment very vulnerable partner was that he looked away, obviously not in the mood to share any more thoughts of Sam.

The former navy Seal slowly released a sigh full of frustration before he pressed the button to call for a nurse. It did not take long before a nurse entered and addressed Sam softly. "You called?"

He nodded and motioned to the corridor. There, he replied in a soft voice as well, not sure if Callan was listening or not. "I did call indeed. He's awake and in pain. Hiding it as much as he can, but I know him; he does that." The nurse took the file and quickly studied it. "I would need to discuss this with the physician. This… patient is not reacting too well to all painkillers I notice." It was clear to Sam the young woman was impressed by the file and the different reactions several medication had on his co-worker. "He has a history indeed, so I do appreciate that, Miss…?"

She pointed at her name shield. "Julia Roberts. Like the actress," she smiled. "Yes, I will contact Dr. Lee and I will be back immediately after," she then said, serious.

He quietly re-entered the room and could tell, by the way the younger man was breathing and moving in his bed, he was still awake and clearly in pain. "Hey buddy, this nurse will be back with some pain medication." No reaction like he expected. Instead of the desperate look, or an angry face, his partner looked like he did not care at all and he seemed to close his eyes deliberately. Cutting off communication.

"Right. I get it." Sam muttered. He sat back in the chair, letting his thoughts go on what his partner might or might not be thinking of.

It did not take long indeed until the nurse returned. She quietly took some fluid medications and spoke, in fact without noticing if the patient took notice of what she said "I will add this directly into the IV-line, and it will help you to fall asleep. It also will ease the pain." Without further hesitation, she did what she said she was doing.  
Not a word or brush-off from the team leader. Nothing. It worried Sam more than he ever thought it would.

As soon as the medication worked, he contacted Hetty.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Office of Special Projects, 3 days later**

Sure, she of all people, should be able to handle it all. At least, that was what she had her team to believe. But all in all, Hetty had the feeling that, notwithstanding all their efforts, nobody seemed to get closer to solving their mystery.

Her lead agent recovered sooner than anyone thought possible. That was, he healed okay, physically. Despite the way he tried to tell everybody he was good, he was alright, he felt okay, Hetty saw and knew he was far from that. The vivid sparkle in his eyes had left, it was replaced by a certain sadness and distrust which he tried to hide.

She sensed a bit of hostility towards her that never was there before. Exactly what she had predicted.

"Mr. Hanna, a word please?" she asked Sam, who spent lunchtime at the hospital. "Any news on your partner?"

He stopped at her desk and shook his head. He missed the light and playful banter he was used to. "No Hetty. He's not that keen on sharing any thoughts today, like he wasn't yesterday or the day before that…" He sighed deeply. "Something needs to change, soon, Hetty. I remember the anger there was after you revealed who his mother was. Well, I mean, who you thought she was. And later, you and he quarreling about the orphans you saved. He nééds a solid base, an identity. I've never seen him so lost, Hetty, seriously. I wished—"

"There are those thick and high walls again, oh, I know Mr. Hanna, I know. You wished there could be a breakthrough, soon. So do I… Indeed, so do I," she said, more or less to herself as well.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai**

It was the second time they visited him, and it was this time he was alert and genuinely interested.

"Really, Cal, I had never thought you would grow up—like this," Amy told him. "Look at you, you're so strong, so…" she stopped talking, reddening slightly.

"Amélie! Really?" her brother said teasingly. "She does that, Cal. Looking at handsome guys, ever since her divorce."

It was something precious, he knew. Something he would never experience, that family feeling, the banter brothers and sisters obviously could have - the shared past. And it was so odd, looking at her was like looking at the precious single picture he had of the person he remembered as his mother.  
He bit his underlip, not knowing if he would get answers, but he just needed to know.  
"Amy? What—way back then, how—Can you tell me anything? Things you know, that might help me. To remember."

She looked him straight into his eyes, suddenly aware that she probably knew more about his past than he did himself. She forced herself to smile. "Cal, you were what, three or four years old when you came into our life. And really, I do not know where you came from. You simply… were there. Mum picked you up every other day. I really don't know from where. A silent, shy little boy. Pale and tiny. So different from Eugene. And there was your way of talking. IF ever you talked. There was this strange accent."

He nodded. "Romani," he stated.

Amy shook her head. "No, different. I know, we used Romani at school. You struggled with it, at first, like you seemed to do with English too."

It made him wonder – when he went to save Hetty in Romania, he realized that thát was the place he knew, the beach he played at. So, he had figured out he was raised in Romania and he was a Romanian boy himself. He hoisted himself in a more upright position, trying to look less vulnerable.  
"Any clues?" he needed to know.

Amy sighed. "Not now. Peut-être if I had time to simply listen to all kind of languages and kids speaking those languages. I will try, Callan. That bossy little woman you work with might help, perhaps."

Hetty would, definitely, he knew.

Then, Eugene, G, continued. "Remember Cal, how you played with Amy and me in the garden? We were fireman, and Amy pulled us one by one in that little red car?"

"You were a real cry-baby, G, when the car toppled. While Cal… You were bleeding, remember? I know, there were tears in your eyes, but you did not make a sound, none whatsoever."

"Amy, I do remember. There was this woman, some years ago. Hannah Lawson," he carefully said, understanding that this might be something that might bring back memories for Amy. "You told her, and I remembered you. Just a flash. I—she told me I was your baby-brother."  
He breathed in, as deeply as possible. "But I never was. I seem to share your memories, G."

It hurt him more than he could express, more than he wanted to show. In one way or another, he managed to get his face unreadable again, though it was exactly that which hurt deep inside. He blamed it on the shooting.

"Callan? There is one more thing that comes to mind. It had to do with a large house, near the beach. I remember that at first, you were scared when we were at the beach and mum sat close to that house."

* * *

_Thank you all for reading. Please, do review!_


	10. Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: Recognizable characters are not mine. Borrowing them is the nicest thing CBS & Shane Brennan allowed me to do.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai**

There was nothing that came to his mind with what Amy told him. 'Scared of a house?' He could not remember any house at all. The only thing he recalled was the house where the Comescu family lived and he had not recognized it at all. Well, there were the workshops and alleys though. It was quite odd he remembered that area all too well.

A nurse entered the room, ready for one of the many check-ups they did on a daily base. She tried to send away the guests of this patient by just looking at them. "Cal, you look tired," Eugene observed. "You know what, we'll be back tomorrow." He nodded. "That's okay."

After they left, there was only one thing he really wanted. A deep sleep without any nightmares, without any disturbances. So he asked for a different medication and fell asleep soon after.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

That was how Hetty found him, hours later. Fast asleep, his face peaceful and innocent. He looked… younger, boyish actually. Oh, how Hetty wished he was more like that. Careless, for once. She could hardly remember when she saw him relaxed for more than a quarter of an hour.  
She really had wanted to protect him when he was that young boy, but never had been able to. The boy never got a fair chance to grow up being a happy kid, and now… It was as if he wanted to avoid her, as if he did not trust her anymore.

Yes, she really felt indebted to this gifted but ever so lonely agent to find out everything of his past, his identity.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**four days later**

Sam let him know that a new and time-consuming case had come their way. "There's a temp, G., until you will be back," he smiled. He nodded. "That's okay. You and I know a team should consist of four people."

"You wanna know more?" Sam hoped his partner was in a more talkative mood. There was a silent nod. "Young female. Pixie brownish hair. Talkative. All the opposite as what I am used to with you, but we'll manage." It was about the first time Sam saw a faint smile appear on his partner's face since that morning when Callen was not supposed to be part of the case.  
"So, Hetty put Nell in the field? Really. Well, we both know she is capable. However, do take care of her, Sam."

"As if it were you, buddy," Sam smiled.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

His days were filled with thinking, sleeping, Physical Therapy, and talking. Notwithstanding the fact he slept more than ever before and his body rested and recovered well, his mind was tired of all the thinking and talking. PT wore him out, which in fact felt better than the empty feeling of not getting closer to finding out who he really was.

He had been talking with Reznikov. Without any results; and his kids, the Callen family, hardly could help him any further.

Hetty had told him his team was digging into paperwork, trying to help him. It bothered him; after all, if anyone should find out anything about his past, it should be himself.  
Never mind the good intentions, he simply knew he would not be able to handle it if Deeks or Eric were the ones who would know more about his past than him. But no matter how, Hetty seemed not to understand his feelings, so he shunned any further discussions about it with her, and with his team.  
He needed to find out more, soon. And he needed to find a way how even sooner.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"No, not today Sam. You know I'll be dog-tired after Physical Therapy and the Callen's are coming by tonight," he told his older partner. "Perhaps you can come by at lunchtime tomorrow?"

_-"Sure. If that's what you want, buddy. Tomorrow it is,"_ Sam answered. He did not like to talk through the phone but there was no way he had found any time to contact his partner before.

"Hey, and say hi to Michelle, Sam. It's been a while since I saw her. Tell her I miss her cooking, will you?"

_-"Will do so. See you around."_ He ended the phone call, not sure what to think about it.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Office of Special Projects, 24 hours later**

"What do you mean, he is gone?" the tiny office manager snapped.

Despite her sharp voice, the large, former navy Seal was not impressed by it. It worried him more that his partner had left the hospital. "Gone. As in 'not there'. He left, against Medical Advice, Hetty."

"When? How come nobody from the staff or security informed us? And—Mr Hanna. Did he leave voluntary or…?" Hetty wanted to know. Her usual calm appearance seemed to have left her after Sam's announcement.

"Well… They don't know exactly when or how he left. He must have simply walked out. Somewhere between 11.30 yesterday morning and 7.30 this morning. Last time someone spoke with him was at the physical therapy session yesterday."

"So. Why are you still standing here? Take your partner with you, or better, take the whole team and find out where the boy is right now, Mr. Hanna!" While she was speaking, she was already walking up the stairs. "Mr. Beale… we have a missing person. I want you to do everything within your power to help the team to find him. I want you to use extra ears and eyes and to inform Mr. Hanna what it is you find."

"Find who? Where?" the young tech asked, not used to the vague order the office manager came up with. "We're looking for Mr. Callen—Callan." She still had to get used to the change in name. "He has left the hospital, we don't know how, when or why. I sent the team over to try and find out. That is what I want you to do too. Find out more, inform Mr. Hanna. And inform me, that goes without saying." She watched how the young geek turned towards his screen and the empty one next to it, frantically hitting buttons and letting both computers do what they needed to do: looking for their lead agent.

Then, she turned around. She needed to make some phone calls.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Romania || Cap Aurora**

He needed painkillers, sure thing. He was glad he had been able to get hold of some packages of it.

The planning had taken some days. Although Arkady Kolcheck had been unwilling at first, he could not resist the request of his old friend and he provided him with a new, fake, passport.  
Immediately after, he knew it was time to leave. After the PT session he quickly showered, put on clean sweatpants and a shirt and took the papers Kolcheck had provided him with. Instead of walking back to his room, he went one floor up to another ward where he took some clothes from the staff room, changed, went two floors down to the examination rooms where he found the painkillers. The cipro was not perfect, but at least it would help to keep his body free from any new infections.  
Leaving and staying unseen was a second nature. He knew he could stay out of sight of Eric's camera's.

With the new - and for his team unknown - alias Chris Miller and with the cash he kept in a safe deposit at LAX, he bought himself different tickets for planes and trains until he finally reached Cap Aurora. A place near the beach that he remembered.

A place from where he hoped to find out more about his own past, his own identity, his own life and perhaps his own family.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

He sat down on the beach. He breathed in the fresh air as deep as his delicately healed lung could bare. During the short walk from the hotel to the blue house with the white gates and palm trees around it, he wondered if there were new things for him to find out at this part of town.

The house looked derelict, so different from the last time he saw it. All the Comescu's must have left it.  
No, this certainly could not be the house Amy had meant that he had been afraid of when he was young. This house had no other memories to him than the cold anger that he had felt towards the family that lived in there, who killed Clara Callen and who tried to kill him - a fake Callen.

He sighed deeply. A young boy who sat not too far from him, looked up when he heard the sigh. A quiet, little boy, dark haired, green eyes. In a way, he looked familiar. So did the sandcastle he was building.

* * *

_Thank you all for reading. I hope you will let me know how you liked this chapter, please review!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Now, this is the last chapter of this storyline… Thank you all for reading, reviewing and sticking to it._

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**Disclaimer:** As you all know, none of all the characters that appeared in this storyline belong to me. They're all a result of the creative mind of Shane Brennan and his writing team. Wished I belonged to that team as well…

* * *

**Chapter 11**

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Romania || Cap Aurora**

He wished he had something to hand the boy, something to complete this sandcastle with. Instead, he just watched, letting his thoughts go back to the time he was here before. Not his mum next to him, just… his friends' mother, who took care of him. That day and many days before. There wasn't anything else around that he remembered.

Well… not true. Behind the blue building across the street, there were alleys, warehouses. Three years ago, he simply knew his way back there, staying unseen from the Comescu's. Like he had stayed unseen all those years ago. But why, and unseen from whom?

"D-le, te simți bine? [Sir, do you feel alright?]" An unknown voice asked.  
He looked up, blinked his eyes some times and looked at the woman who stood next to the boy by now. He nodded, switched his thoughts and responded "Da, eu sunt bine, mulțumesc. Am fost prins de unele amintiri de tineret. [Yes, I am fine, thank you. I just got caught by some youth memories]." No language which sounded strange to him, he knew it, he spoke it. Far from what Amy had told him, no odd pronounciation.

The woman sat down and smiled at the boy. It reminded him of the moment in his youth, one of the first things he remembered, when the woman he thought that was his mother, smiled at him like that. He let out another heavy sigh and was about to say something nice back at the woman, when she addressed the young boy in their own language "It is a very nice castle you built, Petr."

"Acesta nu este un castel, este loc secret tata lui. [It is not a castle, it is daddy's secret hiding place]," the boy responded with a serious face.

He stood up and smiled at the mother and her boy and wished them a good day. It was time he moved on, trying to find answers.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Office of Special Projects**

The four of them returned from the Cedars-Sinai and joined Eric at ops. It came as no surprise Hetty was in there as well. "Anything?" was all she asked.

"All his belongings are still in there - clothes, phone, tablet, books. No, we found nothing. No clues," Sam answered. "How about in here?"  
There was just a slight shake of the head of their office manager. "Nothing. The only thing we know, is there were no traces, no signs, no noises that Mr. Callan has left against his own will. He probably does what he's good at and became a ghost. We all know what that means."

"He will make a mistake. Once. Won't he? I mean, he can't be that good…" Deeks tried, immediately shut up by a firm hit on his shoulder from his partner.

Eric scraped his throat. "Dunno how he does it, but he avoids every single camera. So I have nothing."  
His usual partner at the operation center looked at the screens in front of the technical operator. "Did you try his car? His house? Kaleidoscope? All aliases?" Nell asked.

He glanced at her, then turned his eyes to the screens again. "Of course. Traffic cams. LAX. Van Nuys. San Diego. What else?"

Nell paused just some seconds. "If I would want to leave and stay unseen? I'd rent a car. I'd take the subway, or a train. You checked all stations?"

"All of them." Eric reddened slightly, his fingers went even quicker on the keyboard. "Sam, what's that name of the car rental you were some weeks ago. Remember, they had no camera's? I suddenly remember. Callan will do so too."

"Ehm. Something like that singer, Shakira, it was…" Sam mumbled.

"Sakura. Near Union Station," Nell knew. "Should we check it out, Sam?"

Before he could answer, Hetty replied instead. "I suggest, miss Jones, that mister Deeks and miss Blye will do that. I prefer that you two pay a visit to a dear friend of Mr. Callan. Of Callan, I mean. Because despite all your efforts, I did find out that Arkady Kolcheck visited our team leader in hospital twice in only some days. Maybe, just maybe, he knows more about Callan's whereabouts."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Romania || Constanta**

He found a car rental in Cap Aurora where he hired a simple Seat and drove to the center of Constanta. With the assistance of Arkady's instructions, he knew exactly in which neighborhood he should be. No intensive field work, not yet. He knew he still was too weak for that. With the paperwork he received from Kolcheck, the thickest safe kept files of the former Romanian secret service, the Securitate, were suddenly no secret anymore. He worked through the files as thoroughly as he was used to on his OPS laptop - looking for clues on his first name, the period between his birthdate and the moment he left Romania, linked to any foreigners that were in these files. In spite of it all, he never found anything he hoped for.

Callan walked out of the large building. The frustration made him want to blow off steam. He really needed to get rid of the tensed feeling. Back to the beach should do it.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Office of Special Projects**

Henrietta Lange had sent her team to try and find out where the barely recovered lead agent might have gone to and quietly enjoyed sipping from her hot Pu-Erh Tuo Cha tea.  
Then, the most obvious place he would have gone to came to her mind. Of course. It took her some phone calls only to get to Romania as soon as possible.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Romania || Cap Aurora**

If it was a wise decision he did not know yet, but in the small tourist shop that was hosted in his hotel he bought a swim short. Between all the other tourists he would be able to stay unseen, though he knew some people would stare at the recent, hardly healed, bright red scars on his chest and on his upper arm. Well, a towel and a t-shirt could cover it. It felt good to feel the warm water and to feel his body could handle the exercise of swimming.  
Soon after, he enjoyed the late afternoon sun on his body. He was glad he finally could relax. Nobody who was asking questions but himself: Callan. He realized by now that perhaps this was not the right place to find anything else about his past, his identity, after all.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Since the trip to Constanta and the paperwork at the former Securitate office had been unsuccessful, the next morning he went back to the beach near the place where he had set foot on the Black Sea coast before, with Sam, Deeks and Kensi.  
Again, he went for a short swim and again, he was tired from it and nearly dozed off in the warm sand.

"Nu, Petr, nu am de gând să joace fotbal cu tine [No, Petr, I am not going to play soccer with you]," he heard the same small, blonde haired woman say to the boy he met the day before.

Callan opened his eyes. Thinking of how grateful he would have been if anyone had wanted to play games with him when he was young, he got to his feet. "Vreau să joc fotbal Petr [You can play with me, Petr]," he said. The little boy smiled happily and took his ball, clumsily but definitely enthusiastic kicking it his way, while Callan returned it. After a while, the boy had enough of it and started to play with the sand and some toy cars. It was in time - if the boy hadn't stopped, his own body would have told him he had to. He took a cipro and swallowed it with some water.

"You have got a great boy," he told the woman. It was clear she suddenly felt uncomfortable.  
"He is not mine, you know. His mother died some years ago, when the boy was two years old. He would grow up in cold and loveless conditions of childcare, since his father simply ignored him. Petr's mother was a friend of mine, you see. By the way, my name is Valeria."

He introduced himself with a kind nod and "‚Callan'. So, does the boy still see his father?" he wanted to know, feeling some resemblance with how this woman took care for the boy like Clara Callen had done for him.

Valeria shook her head. "His father never cared for how Petr would grow up. In fact, he left the country. Word goes he led a criminal organization and was recently killed in a police raid in America," she told him.

His face still unreadable, he did find his heartbeat out of control. No wonder the little Petr looked familiar. Vasile's boy. There suddenly was a sad feeling. If it had not been for him, Petr would still have his father around. If it had not been for him, Vasile had never felt he needed to get revenge and perhaps, just perhaps, Petr would have had the possibility to play football on this beach with his father.  
What if his father had been like that as well? He let go an unheard breath. Not something he came to look for. Perhaps he just overestimated family. All he really wanted was to find a family as in feeling safe, loved, at ease with.

The boy must have sensed something. He came towards Callan once again. "Vrei să vezi locul ascuns, d-le? [Do you want to see the hiding place, Sir?]" he asked.  
Autimatically, Callan sent him a smile. He turned to the sandy hill Petr had built and where he had parked two small toy cars. "So, this is no castle but a hiding place, Petr? Whose cars are parked in there?" He asked in the boy's language.

"Tata [daddy's]. And Nicolas'," was all the boy answered. "Did Nicolas leave with your father?" Callan wanted to know. Petr Comescu shook his head. "He is too old. But he is ‚râu', evil. I don't like him."

The woman now interrupted. "Petr, which Nicolas are you talking about?"  
The boy shrugged. "Nicolas. I can show you?" he was already on his feet. It was clear the boy was suddenly feeling very confident with the woman and him – the stranger from the beach. Callan smiled at the woman. "You can stay if you want. We will be back soon."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Without hesitation, he followed Petr. Again, all the alleys and warehouses looked familiar, as if it was yesterday he first found his way in there. Then it suddenly was there. Even before he saw it, he remembered. The house.

"Sir?" he heard Petr calling him.

"Nu, Petr, nu ar trebui să mergem acolo [No, Petr,we should not go in there]," he tried to convince the boy. He now knew what Amy had meant. This was a place he knew and a place that scared him. Even now, after all those years, it gave him the creeps. It was pure evil, though he could not figure out why. It was an ordinary house, two storeys high, dark brickwork combined with white woodwork. Nothing special, though a bit further from the street and quite remote from the residential area. The boy kept running to the house and despite of his own fears, he followed.

"Petr, stop, vă rog," he said, hoping the boy would listen. Ignoring his plea, Petr sneeked into the house through a large hatch that should lead to the basement. He took a deep breath, still not knowing if it was safe for the boy to go in, let alone if it was for him. Why hadn't the boy waited or listened? No way he should leave him alone. His eyes had to get used to the sudden dim light. "Petr?" He kept his voice down. No reaction. "Petr?" he called again, somewhat louder.

"He is with me." The voice came sudden from the dark. Then he recognised the sounds of the unlocking of the chamber of a gun.

"Why scare and threaten him?" He could not think why anyone would hurt the young boy, although Petr had told him the person that lived here was an evil old man. "You should let go of the boy."

"Oh, this boy. Vasile's. He's useless indeed. But you… Sybil and Reilly's boy. So, you found me, well, never mind. I nearly managed to shut you up, in 1974, in 2009, even in here, back in 2011. Vasile failed, didn't he? But here you are. Finally. It's easier this way."

_It left him speechless. Something deep, very deep hidden in his memory remembered the cracking sound of a shot, a man shouting 'Nooo! Sybil!'. The sadness he had felt back then, came back -'mom!'._

"So, Callan Greenhalgh. You'd better let me know where you hid the papers you took from me?"

_A full name. An identity. It left him without words. It sounded familiar indeed. No time to think about it now._

"Papers?" he asked, managing to hide his unbelief, the insanity of this situation. "Let go of Petr and I will tell you."

"You remember the papers, then? I once hired an Australian man to tell you more. He had these files…"

"Keelson," he confirmed.

"You killed him. You blew up his warehouse and destroyed all the information you ever wanted."

Callan stepped towards the older man, trying to look as confident as possible. Yes, he now remembered the man. "I never cared about the information he had. But you, Nicolas, seem to be afraid that I use the information I have on you. Why?"

"You..." The man clearly was annoyed by his questions and kept quiet for a while. He did not even seem to notice Callan came nearer. "Your parents found out all about the people Alexa and I betrayed. You were there. And instead of staying with them, so I could get rid of you too, you escaped. You got away and more than that, you took a list that is far too valuable for the Russian government. They need it back."

In a deadly soft voice he once more demanded "Let go of the boy. I will show you the papers."

There was a wry laugh. "Just imagine. You and your team came here and killed so many Comescu's. And now you want this boy to be safe? Ironic, don't you think? So…" Before he knew it, the old man drew the boy even closer to the gun. Dangerously close. Maybe he underestimated Callan?  
He could kick away the gun and kept Petr Comescu out of Harm's way. Fighting the old man was more difficult than he thought with his barely healed wounds.  
"Petr, leave, go back to Valeria," he managed to shout. For some seconds, the boy stood motionless, then he started to run, his small feet on the same stairs Callan had ran up so many years ago.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

She looked up from the magazine she had brought with her when an odd combination of people stood in front of her – a petite older lady and a large, strong built and dark-skinned man.  
They were discussing something in English. Just as she thought they might know the younger man with those bright blue eyes and she wanted to tell that he just left with Petr, they heard the shooting from further away. The young boy came running to them, "Valeria, Valeria! You must help!"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Too late, he realized it might be him who underestimated the older man.  
"Did you really think I did not see you coming, Greenhalgh? Meet the other Petr Comescu. The boy's uncle." The dim light in the basement now came as his ally. He dodged the bullets that were shot at him and desperately dived for the gun that Nicolas dropped, knowing he might expose himself to the Comescu. He managed and aimed at Petr Comescu first, without result. When the old man started to give directions about Callan's position, he shot his way. A short cry proved that he hit Nicolas. Next thing he knew was that a bullet grazed his arm, causing him to drop the gun, and the moment he thought all had been in vain, there were shots from the outside.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"What did you think you were doing, G?" Much to his surprise, his partner had shown up and now stood near him as an EMT took care of his bleeding arm.

Weaker than he thought he'd be, he shakily answered "I knew you'd have my back, buddy."

"Next time you decide to go Lone Wolf I probably let you go. It was Hetty's plan to go and look for you in here, G."

He read the worries in the dark brown eyes of Sam and managed to produce the smallest smirk. "Greenhalgh," he said, "how's that Sam?"

The short inhale of breath behind him was Hetty's. "Greenhalgh?"

He turned to the older lady that was so dear to him. "That's what this guy Nicolas said."

"Oh boy… You are Reilly's son?" the disbelief in her eyes showed that she had known his father. It made his throat feel weirdly dry. She looked at the lead agent of her magnificent team and cocked her head, looking in his questioning blue eyes.  
"Reilly Greenhalgh. Irish and a legend in MI6. The true James Bond. Yes, I knew him. Oh, goodness. Greenhalgh. A son." She shook her head once again.

In a soft voice he asked "what happened to him, Hetty? My—my mother died in there" as he motioned to the house. "I was there. But I don't know what happened to him."

"Clara… she must have known him, or your mother." She sighed deeply, once again, not knowing what to say but the truth.  
"Reilly—Your father died in a Russian prison. Tortured. It's been said he never gave up the information he had on Russian sleeper agents," she sadly told him.  
The lonely tear that escaped his eye surprised her. "I'm sorry, Callan. We should discuss this when we're back home."

He shook his head and slowly got up. Looking defeated, he closed his wetting eyes and rubbed his hands through his short hair. "He—I think I killed him, Hetty. If that is what they wanted from him, he never knew," he nearly whispered. "I took the list. And it may still be where I hid it. Oh god. It's all my fault."

It would be difficult to get this out of his system. She put her small hand on his now shaking shoulder. "Callan… you were what, maybe four years old? You did not kill him and you were never the one responsible for it either. How could you know?"

Sam had quietly listened to all that was said, astonished. "Hetty. That list, would it still be valuable?"  
She nodded. "To both our country as to the Russians."

The best way to get his partner back was to get him back in action, Sam hoped. "G… If you're up to it we could look if it's still there," he suggested. The younger man bit his lower lip, trying to focus on the here and now. "It should be. Remember that warehouse where we gathered? I left it in there."

"No wonder you remembered that place. Let's go."

From a corner of his eye, Callan saw how the young Petr came walking his way, scared of what he had gone through. Callan smiled and combed his left hand through the boy's hair. "Mulțumesc, Peter, pentru ce ai făcut [Thank you Petr, for what you did]". It was good to see a broad smile on the boy's young face. "Take care of him, Valeria. He's worth it."  
On that, he turned to join his partner.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

She was proud to see her senior agents partnering up as if nothing so shocking had taken place. "Reilly's boy. Who would have thought that?" she mumbled.

"There will always be people who know how to find this man," the hoarse voice of the old man came from the gurney of the ambulance.

_Never mind the warm summer sun, Hetty Lange shivered..._

* * *

The end...

* * *

changeling (ˈtʃeindʒliŋ) _noun ~ _a child secretly left in place of another by the fairies

* * *

I do hope you will let me know your thoughts on this chapter and the whole of this story. Thank you all for reading!


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